


an accidental friend

by Kowalski_analysis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spies In Disguise (2019), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Pigeons, Spies in disguise au, i dont know why i made her a pigeon, pepper potts is a pigeon, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kowalski_analysis/pseuds/Kowalski_analysis
Summary: When the world's greatest spy, Tony Stark, gets turned into a pigeon by a R&D intern- cue Peter Parker- while trying to stop a mass weapon from getting in the wrong hands, Tony's forced to do the one thing he hates most. Work with other people.(AKA Spies in Disguise)
Relationships: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nick Fury & Tony Stark, Obadiah Stane & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Skip Westcott, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25
Collections: Irondad Big Bang 2020





	an accidental friend

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, after procrastinating for literally ever, I finally am uploading this..
> 
> Shoutout to my friend Annie for beta-reading this, she's epic

Tony Stark was imperfect, as little as he wished to admit it. Despite his suave demeanor, there seemed to be an infinite list of things he could only wish to improve on and an even longer list of his flaws. However, there was one thing that Tony was absolutely confident in his ability in.

Espionage.

His job as a professional spy, at least in his eyes, was one thing in life that came naturally to him. He’d like to think that it was due to Howard Stark- his father, who had taught him everything he’d ever known and left a legacy behind that Tony only aspired to match. He had a constant drive to try his very best with any task presented to him, though he rarely had to put in much effort. He was Tony Stark, for god's sake. All he ever really needed to do was what he believed to be right, and the situation would be resolved.  
Most of the time, at least.

And on this particularly clear day, the ever so charming Tony was assigned to put his skills into action. Director Fury had briefed him on the seemingly simple assignment what seemed like five minutes ago. He had jumped at the chance to get back to doing what he loved, and had blown through his briefing to get back in the action. Tony Stark would be able to handle it, meetings were the least of his worries. He made sure to grab his equipment and “suit up” before assuming his position. He ended up gazing through binoculars behind a conveniently placed bush, watching a team of guards standing in front of the target building. Tony ran the plan through his head one more time: get the briefcase and stop The Transaction before it happens at any cost. It was a vague plan, yes, Fury hadn't even told him what the briefcase entailed. A rather concealed individual, Fury hadn’t notified Stark about the consequences of his failure. But he made certain that it was heavily implied he was incessantly whispering through Tony's personal communicator about every single risk of this operation. How costly this would be to the agency of SHIELD if not taken care of successfully. Tony so badly wanted to tell him to move his eyepatch patch to his mouth, but for whatever reason, he didn't think that would go over so well with the man who paid him.

“Now remember Stark, do as I told you. Get in, get out. Nothing fancy, I know you have a flair for the dramatics.”

With an eye roll that would impress even the most standoffish eight grader, Tony turned his communicator off. He looked down to his wrist,double-tapping his watch to encase his hand in a titanium glove- a helpful little tool that he happened to have built in his spare time. Though he had to admit, he couldn't take all the credit for himself. He did have to concede a bit of the praise to his brilliant engineering partner; Rhodey. 

Well, maybe more than a bit-

A silent buzzing in his ear snapped his attention from the gauntlet encasing his arm to the guards positioned at the door, who were, oddly enough, facing towards him.

“It’s showtime,” he whispered to the air before casually stepping out from behind the bush he had been closely examining the passersby from, as one does, and cuffing the wrists of his vibrantly expensive suit jacket. He approached the guards with a cocky grin- he seemed not to have a care in the world and hoped to use his demeanor as an advantage. “Am I interrupting something, fellas?" He paused for a moment. "Actually, you know what? You can go back to what you were doing. I'll just make my way through here-”

“Not so fast, Stark.” The middle one sneered, spitting out the name "Stark" as if it were a poison he wanted to be rid of. “Some of us here know what we’re doing. We all know the family, damn well know about your ‘item of interest.’ Trust me, ya won't be getting it.” The man gave him a small shove backwards.

Forced to think quickly, Tony only grinned. “Please, that’s what they all tell me, typically preceded by ‘oh Mr. Stark, you dastardly hero, you’re the reason I’ve lost X item, Y job..’.Trust me when I say I'm more than familiar with your type. So move along now, before it's too late for you.” He made a shooing motion with his hands, appearing to be nothing more than mildly annoyed by their existence.

The attack was obvious. He saw it coming the second the burly man on the left stepped forward, preparing to deliver a blow. Tony had just enough time to duck the punch rocketing towards his face. He sidestepped before leaning down and sweeping his leg under Burly’s kneecaps, throwing him off balance and knocking him on his butt. “You know, you talk a lot of smack for someone who’s swept off their feet that fast.”

A growl came from the middle man as he barked at Righty to come on, you damn fool, he’s smaller than both of us, hoping to outnumber Tony. Muttering a curse under his breath, the elegant SHIELD agent had no choice but to throw a smoke grenade in the direction of the men, slipping past them and inside the building. He did his best to look inconspicuous despite the obviously scrambling guards just outside of the door,, his head down and his dark glasses hiding his darting (probably a better word for this) eyes. Thankfully, none of the men in the building had bothered to acknowledge his entrance.  
Yet.

Tony heard the echoing boom behind him, but years of experience in the field had taught him not to flinch. The guards didn’t have that luxury. As the bang echoed around the room,the heads of the men turned up from their conversations to figure out what the hell just happened outside.

With the look of a man futilely trying to outrun death, Tony sprinted through the lobby like a madman. One problem solved, and yet a secondary issue seemed to have manifested. Racing towards the stairwell, Tony flung open the door, scrambled inside, and shakily locked it.  
But he wasn’t out of the woods just yet.  
Not even close.

He dashed up the stairs, trying to remember which floor this mysterious object was supposed to be on. Fourth? Sixth. No. Third. It was third.  
Third floor, third floor, third floor, come on.

The stair door opened up to a bar, filled with the loudest people Tony had ever encountered. It was also the biggest bar he'd ever seen. All around were drunk men, each one giving off a heavy odor of alcohol, nauseating Tony. He hadn't so much as touched alcohol in about ten years, near death experiences can do that to a person.

He scrunched his face in disgust, sweeping past men from all different angles, trying to locate the briefcase. Word was that Skip Westcott- a well known weapons dealer in the area- was gonna be meeting with someone to get this mysterious weapon. What kind of weapon again? He vaguely remembered Director Fury describing it. Something about a drone of some sort? Maybe?  
Doesn’t matter. The task remains.

Despite not remembering what he was trying to obtain, Tony kept searching, surveying the room to get a closer look. He activated FRIDAY- his handy AI- within his glasses. "Fri, find Westcott, asap."

Only a couple of minutes passed before Friday managed to find the guy, who was sitting at the end of the bar, his elbow resting on a briefcase. The briefcase. The man looked around, not spotting Tony before nudging some of his henchmen to go, them blindly obliging. Westcott had platinum blond hair- a horrible fashion choice in Tony's personal opinion- and wore a permanent scowl on his face, his eyes constantly darting across the room. 

Not wanting to risk being spotted and easily defeated(although that was impossible seeing that he was Tony Stark), Tony pushed past the other men in the bar and snuck around to where Westcott was, grabbing the briefcase quickly. Someone's hands rested on top of his. Tony looked up, locking eyes with Skip, who upon closer examination, had a scar running down his cheek, and a smirk on his face as he pulled the briefcase towards himself. 

Tony pulled back, almost bumping into a man behind him. He turned around to see who it was and was met with the glowing eyes of a face ridiculously familiar. Obadiah Stane. He almost let his demeanor slip, but quickly repaired it with a smirk, twisting around and holding the briefcase up to a glaring Westcott.

"Stark," he muttered, clawing the table his hand rested on.

"Well, this was a great time to chat, but I really must be on my way. I've got duties. Being the world's greatest spy does that to you," Tony responded, backing away. "Good to see you Obie. Maybe we should catch up sometime? Does coffee sound good to you? Oh wait, you're on the run from authorities, completely forgot about that, my old friend."

Obadiah growled, his forehead scrunching up as his face reddened. "Well if it isn't Tony. The ever so chatterbox. Long time no see."

"And let's keep it that way," Tony quipped back at him, glancing about.


End file.
